elegantwaste's Diaryland Diary

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hitchhike baby

Things with the ex have been getting progressively weirder. Like, she calls me. And comes over.

And here's the crazy part: she keeps asking me how I'm doing. Like: "How are you?" is a pretty simple thing, but it's something she never, ever did. Cause, well, basically, she didn't think of it.

And of course we're friends. We had a good talk a few weeks ago that was a lot of closure on the ex thing. We actually talked, something we never really did, before.

And there's no reason for me to still care about her like that, except for the fact that I do, and can't stop. Because she's HER, and that love thing sucks, but it's there.

And so we're friends. But I don't know if I can be friends. Especially non-bitter non-issue friends, which we seem to be lately. Without the bitterness, there's nothing left to stop me from crying because I can't touch her.

Maybe mostly I'm mad because the Pride parade is sunday and I totally don't have a date at all.

-

Also, to continue yesterday's banana peel-esque fall on the ass? Today I got to work and said "Dave, today I'm not going to fall down, hurt myself, or drop anything on the floor."

Five minutes later, there goes a milk carafe, all over the recently-mopped floor.

I didn't cry over spilt milk, but I sure laughed over it.

11:01 p.m. - 2003-07-29

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